


Erdreich

by TheWiseMansFear



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWiseMansFear/pseuds/TheWiseMansFear
Summary: There were broken pieces in Ludwig's mind. Things he couldn't remember, things he couldn't forget. Sometimes those jagged shards cut along the wrong nerve ...





	1. Break and Run

     Gilbert emerged from the basement in search of another beer, expecting Ludwig to be fast asleep at his desk by now. Such was not the case however. Water sloshed across the kitchen floor and his socks couldn't escape the flood in time. "Vest? Vhat are jou doing?" He inquired as if he didn't know, as if this were the first time he'd found his brother meticulously scrubbing the floor at two in the morning. "Vas it nightmares again?"   
      "It's dirty." The blond murmured, blue eyes locked on target as his hands, red from the heat of the water and chemicals mixed within it, moved the rag back and forth across the pristine kitchen tile. "Go avay."   
      "Are jou vith me, brohuas?" Squatting beside him, Gilbert chanced a grab for his wrist. "I just mopped all zis earlier. Jou saw me. It's perfectly clean."   
      His fingers were swatted away and Ludwig moved on, unsatisfied and distant. "How vill zey rest?" He hissed under his breath, "Alvays stepping on zem, always making zem filthy. Und for vhat? Zere is no perfection here. Vere is it?"   
      Removing his sopping socks, Gil retreated back down the stairs and closed the door.  This sort of happening was nothing new. There were broken pieces in Ludwig's mind. Things he couldn't remember, things he couldn't forget. Sometimes one of those jagged shards cut along the wrong nerve, the results of which varied from desperate O.C.D. behavior to self-harm. At times there were even fits of rage, but due to West's soul-deep desire for control, they were rare and short-lived.   
      This instability was the only reason Prussia himself was still around. Germany wasn't recovered enough to be left on his own, and though fading frightened him, Gil longed for the day his brother would find peace. "Totally unawesome." He muttered, falling onto his cot as Gilbird fluttered down from his perch to hop about on his forehead. "Should ve call Italy?"   
       The little yellow creature pecked at him and then began pruning his feathers.  
Italy didn't live here any more, hadn't for a long time, though he visited often. The brunette hadn't been around for a few weeks now. Even he had work to do sometimes. It was usually in his absence that Ludwig's nightmares got to him the most.   
      "Hey jou, watch mien awesome eyes." He grumbled as a tiny clawed foot strayed too near his right red iris. Gilbird tweeted an apology and moved upwards to nest in his hair.   
Gently, as not to disturb his companion, he reached over to his nightstand and found his phone on the charger were he'd left it. Ignoring the lewd beach pictures Spain had sent him, he smiled briefly at a goodnight text from Canada before dialing Feli's number.   
       The Italian didn't answer. He left a quick voicemail and sat up as the dogs upstairs began to howl and whine. It was Aster's sharp, single bark that triggered his alarm. It was a warning meant specifically for him. Gilbird tumbled onto his shoulder and off, but he didn't notice. He returned to the stairs as if Russia was behind him. "Vest?" He called, discovering that Ludwig was no longer tending to the kitchen tile.   
He found Berlitz and Blackie at the front door. They licked his hands and gave him melancholy looks that told him things had taken a turn for the worse. "Don't vorry. I'll get him." He soothed, grabbing both his jacket and his brother's before heading out into the brisk April night.   
      To make matters more bleak, it was raining. God just loved to set the fucking mood, didn't he? Pulling on his outerwear with more attitude than was necessary he scowled at the dark clouds above on briefly before whistling. As trained, Aster responded with another bark. She would not come to him, instead she would stay with the master he had bestowed her with like the good girl she was.  
       He walked toward the sound of her beckonings and stopped just within the tree-line. He clung to the shadows, only catching the dog's eyes long enough to give her the silent command to be silent. Ludwig sat at the base of a tree, head in his hands and shoulders shuddering. If he was sobbing Gil couldn't hear over the rain pelting the leaves above. That was for the best. If his brother had been weeping, any restraint he was showing would be thrown to the wind.   
       From the time Germany had come into his life, Prussia had been rendered helpless against the sweet blonde's tears. It was a weakness he had never known he had. He'd thought he was way too awesome for such a ridiculous thing to bother him until he'd been handed that broken little boy. The piteous thing had wept into his chest like he was the only one in the world who could save him. The why of it still baffled him. The fact that Ludwig would choose him, the most infamous of the bunch, to care for him had altered something in his nature, touched a place in his heart he'd thought long ruined from the brutality from which he'd been bred. Hell, the fact that someone as blood-soaked as he was had been granted the privilege of a little brother still made him feel lame and sappy.   
       Aster laid down at Ludwig's feet, granting what comfort she could and Gilbert quietly crouched in the mud where he was. The dog would do as he'd taught her to, he had no doubts about that, but still he couldn't bring himself to go back to the house until West came back to himself and headed that way as well.


	2. Pasta

      Showers were so wonderful. So hot. So soothing. This must be what pasta felt like when covered in the richest, warmest tomato sauce. Feli hugged himself contentedly, humming happily to the tune on the radio as the water washed away his worries. He'd been working so hard he'd not even had the time to nap today! And it was already noon!    
      Wrapping a towel around his waist, he danced out of the bathroom completely carefree. He was belting out the catchy chorus of his favorite song when he bumped the easel by his closet. He really should open his eyes more often. The painting fell forward and he scrambled to catch it and right the easel before it all toppled to the floor. He lost his towel in the process.  
       As was the way of things in such situations, it was at this time that his brother burst through his bedroom door with the same disregard he showed everything else. Feli pulled the painting over his groin and smiled cheerfully nonetheless. "Ve~ Fratello!"  
      "Why the fuck are you holding a picture of that potato-bastard over your dick?!" Romano snarled  
"Ah- this- this isn't Germany." He muttered, looking downward at the artwork. "It's H-"  
"That's worse!" The older man growled, snatching the canvas and kicking it out the window. "We have work to do! Why are you wasting time here!"   
He simply stood there naked, mournfully watching his brother stomp around his room like like a bull on a rampage. "Ve~ Romano, did you run out of tomatoes or something?"  
"Why can't they be in season all year!"   
       "Well, we have them in the greenhouse now."  
       "They taste all wrong!"  
        "Fratello, why don't we settle for pasta? Even the greenhouse tomatoes make yummy sauce."  
      Romano finally collapsed in a pouty puddle near a mountain of dirty laundry and sighed. Feli decided then that this wasn't really tomato withdrawal. More than likely it was the lack of Spain that caused his brother's perturbation, but he knew better than to say so. Instead, he got dressed and left Romano in his room to stew while he went to have breakfast.   
      The pasta was perfect and the wine was sweet. Everything was right again and he headed out to the patio to do a bit of paperwork in the sunshine. "Mr. Vargas." A servant appeared only a few minutes into the filling out of forms.   
     "Ve~ what is it?"   
     "We found him outside." The man stated, hefting a large white cat in his arms. "It was gnawing on this."   
     Cracking open his eyes to better see, he found the servant held his cellphone in his hand. "I wondered where I'd left that." He sighed, "You can leave them both there." Pointing with his pen to the opposite side of the table, he looked back to his paperwork. As the man did his bidding, he managed a smile. "Grazie."    
         When the man had gone he waited until he'd completed the section he'd been working on before reaching out to stroke the kitty. Kitties were so nice. So soft. So fuzzy. Cute. It scratched him and shook the table as it jumped down, fleeing into the bushes and disappearing. And mean. Cats could be really mean. But dogs could be nasty too, although they seemed a lot more loyal. Dogs made him think of Germany. He really loved his dogs. They never misbehaved- well except that on time Blackie wondered onto Switzerland's lawn and-    
         Paperwork.   
         The sun made the paper hard to see. That was his excuse to lay his head in his hand. After that it was a downhill battle attempting to work when those warm rays of comfort were trying so hard to put him to sleep. A little nap wouldn't hurt! Just a little one. Yeah. His arm fell and his head rested on top of it. His eyes were already closed so he was a goner for sure after that.   
          Just as he was starting to enter his peaceful dreamland, where Grandpa Rome had just bought him new paints and all his siblings weren't giant fuckers, his phone rang. "Ciao?" He mumbled into the receiver.  
        He sat up and quietly listened to a very weary sounding Prussian speak, trying to keep up with all the awesome and unawesome details. "Jou have to come. I tried sleeping vith him but he got all veirded  out! He used to sleep in my bed all za time I don't get it. It has to be jou." Gil grumbled. It sounded like he had a cold.   
        "Ve~" What unfortunate timing. He knew how Ludwig got sometimes and it wasn't the first time Prussia had called him in to help but- "My boss is really mad at me. If I tried to leave without doing my work-"  
       "Jeez. How unawesome. Okay vell-" Gilbert paused to cough violently and then sniffle a bit. "Vell, zat's lame but I get it. He's mien brudder, so I'll take care of him zis time."   
       "Ve~ I'm really sorry Gil."  
       There was a sneeze. "It's fine. Don't vorry. The awesome me-" A sniffle. "can totally handle zis."   
       The call ended and so did all traces of Feli's peaceful morning. "Fratello!" He shouted up at his bedroom window, a ferver and fierceness he didn't like to muster now spinning in his soul like pizza dough on a fingertip.   
       "What do you want, moron! I don't want your stupid greenhouse pasta!" Romano shouted, sticking his head out and leaning in the flower box.   
       "Weren't you just complaining about me wasting time?" He snapped back, pointing to the chair opposite his own. "I'll call Spain and tell him you miss him if you don't come and help me. Subito!"

****


	3. I Can not Wash my Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> SELF-HARM

     He knew it wasn't real. It never was. She was out of his reach. Always. Yet, he sought her with the same futility and desperation that he did control. That little green dress. He'd chase it's hem forever, longing for just a touch, one touch. Like the ailing desired the touch of Christ, he longed for the feel of that fabric beneath his fingertips. Let it be real, let the peace and warmth she exuded linger a moment upon his heart. God, please, just one small moment, let it chase away the dark.   
    She'd turn and wave to him from atop a small rise, one who's bank he could never top. The blue sky behind her was painted in lavish watercolor and the breeze blew petals of white flowers across the scene like doves escaping a magicians hat. Her small arms outstretched, she'd call his name but his coherency would fall away before the first syllable left her tiny pink mouth.   
     Just like the comfort she offered, she was unattainable.   
     Again she cried out at him, but this time she was screaming. The sky was melting. Everything burned hot as hellfire and she fell amongst the ruined landscape. He clawed through the sudden barbed wire as sirens wailed around him. Her name formed on his tongue, but he couldn't speak it. His mouth knew it, his heart knew it, but his mind was so thick with smoke he couldn't recall it.   
    The grassy hill became a mound of withered corpses, but he struggled onward, the flutter of white apron strings calling to him. If he could just make it to her, he would surrender all. He'd give her everything, even his life, if only for one second spent without agony. Blood fell from the dark skies and made everything wet and sticky. He slipped and slid amongst the tumble of twisted limbs, the heat and swirling ash half-blinding him.   
    Gasping for air and blurred eyed, he hefted himself up and over the last mangled body and fell in a heap beside her. At last he reached out and pulled her toward him. She was so light, so small. He attempted her name again, felt the familiarity of it on his tongue. So close, it was right there. Her fragile form rolled to face him and the scenery faltered.   
     Wait. No. No. So close. His body quaked. Her head lulled. Empty sockets stared back at him, yet they seemed to hold every ounce of God's judgement. Her skin was black and withered and her dress charred. No. No. Her name. If he could just call her name. Surely, surely that would save her.   
      For fuck's sake it was right there! On the edge of memory. Right there! He swore his soul was already screaming it so why?! Why?!   
      This wasn't real.   
      The logic didn't save him. It never did. His heart shattered and the nightmarish world did likewise. It was horrifying but he didn't want to wake up. He'd finally made it to her. He wanted to die too. He wanted to stay with her.  
     The rain on the gutter was too loud and the night too dark. The phantom smell of burnt flesh wafted all around him and his stomach rolled. He dashed, half-dazed, to the bathroom where he was violently sick until his body ached from the effort. Trembling, he sat between the toilet and the shower and tried to ground himself, find that control he cherished. Where was it?   
     There wasn't enough air. Aster scratched at the door and he heard Gil's footsteps on the stairs. Hurriedly he reached up to lock himself in. Where once he had felt secure in his brother's arms he now felt only shame. How dare he be this weak when Gil had gone through so much just to make him strong?     He heard the pause outside the door, heard Gil softly call for the dog to come away. She whined but obeyed, her paws padding away and the tinkling of her tags becoming faint as she followed Gilbert back downstairs. No doubt he'd set her to guard the front door.   
     The abyss of his guilt deepened and bits of his hard won clarity crumbled around it's edges and fell within. Would it feel like this for the rest of his existence? He knew he had no right to forget, and if this was all the punishment he got he was getting off easy, but he did not know if he could bear it. Over seventy years had passed and still the remorse and the self-loathing only seemed to grow like brambles in a flower bed.   
    Would it soon overtake him?   
    Tears began to run down his face and he was helpless against them. It didn't matter that he'd had no choice. It didn't matter that his Boss had been insane. No excuse could free him from this, nothing could remove the weight of his sins. He didn't deserve reprieve and yet he was always grasping for it, for anything that could ease the emotional anguish. Even if it was disgraceful and foolish.   
      More of his clarity slipped into the pit and a wildness seized him in it's absence. Almost too easily his knife found his palm. The light click of the blade as it opened was a morbid whisper. It promised solace, warm and wet. His shame did a nose-dive into the blackness as he lay the cool blade on hot flesh.   
      The pain meant nothing to him and at the same time it was everything. It wasn't penance, for God knew he could never bleed that much, but it temporarily gave him the power he'd been searching for. He cut again and again, deeper and deeper until he had to cast the weapon away to keep from severing his hand from the wrist.   
     It wasn't enough. It was never enough. Still, the chill in his cheeks and the slow fade he felt coming would soon ensure he slept soundly the rest of the night. And in the morning these wounds would be gone, as if they'd never been there. Hidden, just like every other injury he carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think that Germany is really HRE, however, I like the idea and want it to be true, therefore, I do what I want.


	4. Vhat Did Jou Do?

     Ludwig stared forlornly into the goulash he'd been letting stew for the past hour and a half. It didn't taste the same as what Gil usually made. Then again, he'd only ever eaten it when his head was half-stuffed with snot, so maybe that was where the difference lay. Fishing a chunk of beef from the mixture he plucked it from the spoon and blew on it carefully before biting it in half and offering the other piece to Berlitz, who was sitting at his feet.  
     "I guess it tastes okay." He decided.  
     "Ve~ It needs more broth."  
     He managed to contain his cry of surprise, but upon turning, he tripped over the dog. The Italian tried to snag his wrist, but the action only served to send them both tumbling downward. Ludwig's back hit the fridge, sending cookbooks and loose recipes down on top of them as Feli landed gracelessly in his lap. "How did jou get in here? Za dogs didn't even bark!" He growled, fighting a mixture of anger and embarrassment. His face was hot and he knew he was flushing deeply. Damn his pale skin.  
      "They never bark at me." The brunette shrugged, seemingly unfazed by laying in his lap. "You're so hard~"   
       He stood up abruptly and let Feli fall amongst the sea of recipes. "V-vhat are jou talking about?"  
"I'll have bruises." Italy whined, "The floor is softer!"  
"Oh."  
       "Is somebody sick?" The smaller man inquired, accepting the hand he offered.  
       "Ja." He answered, pulling his friend back to his feet. "Gilbert has a bad cold. He's alvays getting sick now zat he's not..." That wasn't necessary. Italy knew well why his brother was fragile. With a sigh he began to pick up the mess around them. "Did jou get all jour vork done zhen?"  
        "Yep~"  
        As Italy moved to add more broth to the goulash Ludwig allowed himself to look over at him. Something about him seemed different. His skin was abnormally pale and his little curl seemed a bit droopy. "So- vhat brings jou here? Not zat I mind or anyzing but..." This wasn't exactly a prime vacation spot. Italy had beaches and sunshine and women so why?   
        "Ve~ I came to help with garden."  
The garden? "Vell... About zhat-"  
Frolicking about the kitchen in the manner that was so unique to him, Feli plucked a bowl from the cabinet. "Where's the spittle-what's it?"  
       "Za spätzle? I haven't made it yet."  
       "Ve~"  
"It von't take long." He assured him, "Vhy don't you go take a nap or zomezing?"  
       "No way! I came all the way here to see you~ I'll help you."  
       "Vell, alright." He muttered, fetching the eggs from the fridge as Italy took down the flour. "Are- uh- jou feeling okay, Italy?" His stomach twisted. He hated asking personal questions, they made him feel so weird, but the dark circles beneath his friend's eyes had him stepping outside his comfort zone anyway.  
       The Italian looked down at the sack of flour on the counter and opened his eyes. Ludwig's heartbeat sped up at the sight. As off as it was, he felt like when Feli opened his eyes, what he was really opening was his soul. There was an age within those brown irises that did not befit his attitude, a longing and a pain there that contradicted his smile. It made Ludwig uneasy, and curious. "Ve~ I was working so hard, I didn't get to sleep at all. Well, not in the past two days at least. But! That's okay~"  
       There was that smile, it began to creep up either side of the man's face and slowly those damnable lids began to shut in response. "Zhat's unlike jou. Vhy vere jou pushing jourself so hard?"  
       Italy shut his soul again and Ludwig felt cross at the deprivation. "You push yourself all the time. Aren't you always saying I need to stop being so lazy~"  
        "I'm different."  
        "Not so much." The Italian's words were cold, and like a gust of frigid rain they pelted him.  
        "I-Italy? Vhat-"  
       And then the sun returned, just like that. "Now where is that big pasta pot I brought over? Ve~ Don't tell me you lost it?" The man looked around in the cupboards again even when Ludwig knew he'd never forget where that particular pot was kept.  
       "Zhere." He breathed, "Beneath za zink."  
Instead of pressing the issue, he set to work making the spätzle. Italy hummed softly while they boiled. "I brought cute little baby tomato plants for you~ and a sun hat so you won't get all red in the face like usual~" the brunette babbled as his tune ended. He bopped about the kitchen counter happily, Berlitz on his heels, tail wagging.  
        "Listen, Italy, about za garden..."  
        "Ve~ What's the matter?"  
        "I don't zink it's quite ready for planting..."  
"Of course we have to till it a little~ but you always take such good care of things so I'm sure it won't be too much work~"  
         He loved gardening. He wouldn't admit it, but he did. However, after Italy had left the feel of the soil hadn't been the same. It didn't hold the same comfort. Somewhere deep inside of him there had been a strange sense of satisfaction as he watched the flowers wither. Whether it was the feeling of worthlessness he carried or his want of punishment he didn't know. In any case, what Italy thought was a garden was now just a sad patch of earth, as overrun with weeds as his mind was with cracks. "How long are jou staying?" He inquired, wondering if he'd be able to find time to somehow rectify his failed upkeep before the other nation noticed.  
        "Ve~ Just until I don't feel like it anymore, I guess." The Italian shrugged, "I don't like planning things- unless they are fun things~"  
      "Like naps?"  
     "Sí, or soccer or pasta~"  
     The words he wanted to say mangled themselves on his tongue and he wrestled them back into alignment as the Italian poured goulash over the fresh spätzle and dug out the serving trays from the island cabinet.  
     "I-I'm glad jou came back." He muttered, "I didn't zink zhat jou vould after..."  
     Italy's head popped up from behind the countertop. "Oh? That? Ve~ It wasn't the first time, anyway."  
     "V-vhat?" Mortification sent his anxiety into a frenzy. The Italian just laughed and readied Gil's lunch with a grace he only ever had while preparing food.   
     "I don't mind it~" He stated carelessly, holding out the tray to him. "Fratello wakes up like that sometimes too."  
     That definitely didn't help. His blush deepened as uncouth images danced across his virgin mind like dirty little tarantella dancers. "Vait- vhat?"  
    "Ve~ I said don't worry about it, didn't I?" Italy laughed, "Do you want me to take it to him?"  
    Oh, yeah. The goulash. "Nein. Gil get's scary vhen he's sick." His fingers had no choice but to brush against Italy's as he took the tray and the sensation it caused had him turning away too quickly. The soup splashed a little over the side of the bowl, tainting his friend's perfect presentation.  
     "Be careful, Ve~~"  
     "Ja, sorry."


	5. Bromanticide

     Leaving Italy upstairs, Ludwig made his was down the basement steps hoping to shake his blush before Gil saw it. That would definitely lead to a long and obnoxious round of pestering he simply did not have the patience to suffer through today. "Gil?" He called softly, knowing his brother likely had a headache. "Jou awake?"  
    He spotted Gil's tossled white hair above the back of the couch and one knee of a bend leg, but his brother didn't respond. Gilbird stirred however, stretching his little wings and peeping inquisitively as he approached. Ludwig tried not to worry as he traversed the immaculately clean space and rounded the arm of the sofa. His brother was usually a very light sleeper. "Gil?"  
    Setting the tray on the coffee table and muting the soccer game playing on the television, he looked down at his sibling. With the room quieted, the troubling sound of Gilbert's wheezing filled the space. Moving the tissue-filled wastebasket away, he sat down on the cushion and touched his brother's forehead and found it fevered. Anxiety, like a pit of angry snakes, came to life in his chest, writhing and slithering behind his sternum. With every passing year Prussia grew more frail. What if- what if this time he fell ill and didn't recover?   
    Quietly, he removed his phone from his pocket and sent a text to his guest, who was still padding around above, probably making pasta. He heard the chime of the Italian's phone and then the recession of his feet as he went to do as he'd asked of him. As he waited, he touched Gil's trembling hands and found them cold and clammy, almost as if death was already laying over them. How dramatic he was being today. This was not the first time Gil had become like this. If it was pneumonia, as he suspected it was, this would be the second time in the last six months.   
    "Ve~ is he alright?" Feli whispered from the stairs, dark green duffel bag in tow. "Should I call Japan?"  
    "Nein. Not yet." He breathed, accepting the bag. "Can you bring a few bottles of water down?"  
    "Si."   
    As the brunette pranced back up the stairs, he removed a stethoscope from the bag and warmed the chest piece in his palm before slipping it beneath Gil's shirt. The telltale crackling he heard was evidence enough to Ludwig. He listened a little longer before moving upwards to listen to his brother's heartbeat. It was fast and pounding, an almost desperate sound.  
    "Kesesese~ Vhat does mien awesome heart say?" The Prussian snickered weakly, shifted gingerly and opening glassy red eyes.   
    "Somezing about maple syrup, I zink." He joked back half-heartedly.   
    "Jou got me." Gil grinned, "I-" Prussia's words caught on the phlegm in his lungs and he began to cough violently. Ludwig could do little more than rub his back soothingly and wait, recalling all the times during his childhood where he had been the one hacking and fevered.   
    "Ve~ Poor Gilly~" Italy sighed, appearing abruptly on the opposite side of the Prussian.   
    Gilbert wiped his watering eyes and gasped a greeting with a grin. "Ah-cute Italy's come to play. Kesesese~ Is mien- brudder being- a good sport?"   
    "I just got here." Feli replied, handing him a bottle of water. "Ve~ but he's being weird."  
    "Vierd?" Ludwig huffed. "Vhat?"  
    "Zis isn't beer." Gil grumbled, looking at the liquid as if it'd done him some grievous wrong.   
     Taking it, Ludwig twisted the cap off and shoved t back into his brother's hands. "Jou know it's vater only vhen jou're sick. Japan said so."  
     A sudden gloom gathered around the Prussian and Ludwig saw that as his sign to retreat. Gil was not to be trifled with when he was unwell and especially not when he'd been banned from his most cherished beverage. "Eat zhat." He sighed, gesturing to the goulash as he rose. "I'll get Japan to come over to check on jou. I'll come down again later. Ja?"  
     "Ja. Whatever." Gilbert dismissed him with a moody throw of his hand and continued to glare down at his water. "Just leave ze awesome me alone to die."  
"Zhat's not funny Gil." The words had burst from his mouth before he could help it. The idiot should know better than to joke like that.   
"Ve~" Italy stood and waved his hand in the air as if trying to clear the tension. "Romano is dramatic when he's sick too. It only gets worse the older they get. So silly~"  
      Ludwig didn't have anything left to say. Nothing that would be relevant or significant, any way. "Come along, Italy." He muttered, retreating to the stairs.

      Feli sighed when he'd gone and looked down at Prussia, who was scowling in a very fearsome manner that even Gilbird had fled his perch. He felt the anger in the air and wished there was something he could do. "I'll sneak you a beer later, okay?"  
"Nien. Jou just vorry about Ludwig. The awesome me can sneak mien own beer."  
      "Ve~ Don't worry. Japan will have you feeling all better soon~"   
      Gil smiled sadly and took a reluctant drink of water. "Ja." He murmured. "Go avay now. Ze awesome me vill be fine by myself."   
      "Ve~ okay." He sighed, tickling beneath Gilbird's beak before turning to follow Ludwig. "Arrivederci."


	6. Chapter 6

     Closing the basement door, Feli sought Ludwig almost desperately. His careless air fell away as his boots sounded in the hallway. He peered into the office and found no one at it's desk. The kitchen and living room were empty as well. "Aster." He called softly, knowing if Germany was upset in the way he and Gilbert consistently worried about, the dog would be with him.   
      To his relief he found her laying by the stairs, sleeping soundly with Berlitz curled up beside her. "Germany?" He called, "Want to go shopping with me~"  
     "Not now, Italy." The German's rough voice called down, "I'm cleaning jour room."  
     "Ve~" Feli knew that the guest room was already flawless. Gilbert couldn't stand a mess anymore than his brother and he always purposely left it in tatters to give them something worth cleaning. "Did you call Japan?"  
     "Nien."   
     "Do you want me to?"  
     "Nien. Zhat idiot can call for himself if he's vorried about it."   
     Sighing, the Italian took the stairs. Oh how the issues abounded in this particular Germanic household. Strange though, it still often felt more like home than his own. "You know he will be fine~" he stated, coming to stand in the doorway of his bedroom. Germany was not cleaning. Instead he sat forlornly on the mattress, long legs spread and elbows topping his knees.   
     "I do not know zhat." He muttered, resting his chin in one large hand while the other fiddled absently with his iron cross.   
     The light spilling through the window behind him cascaded him in an angelic light and for a moment the sight of that beautiful blond hair in the sun was too much, even through squinted lids. It brought vitality back to old memories he preferred left faded. "Ve~ Gilly is probably just as frustrated as you are. He just talks to talk. He didn't mean it the way you felt it."   
     "Jou're not really an idiot, are jou?"   
     Haha. Oops. Almost caught. "Let's go shopping~"  
     "Italy, sit with me a while."   
     The request caught him off guard, and the butterflies that emerged in his stomach made him giddy. He hadn't been able to feel like this in a very long time. "Sí."  
      Moving to do as the blond had asked, he sat down cheerfully beside him. Their thighs touched but neither put distance between them. There were words floating around them, unspoken, and if he hadn't been such a coward he may have asked about them. If he hadn't been so unsure and so guilty, he might have pulled them from the atmosphere and stitched them together, but he was, so he didn't. "Germany?"  
       "Ja?"  
       How did he ask? How did he voice the concerns he had without inflicting wounds upon his counterparts sensitivities? If he pushed, the German would flee. "Nothing~"  
       Silence fell, though this time it was not lacking. It was a full, whole quiet that felt like a warm blanket rather than a frigid wind. Without thought, he rested his head on Ludwig's shoulder. The man didn't even flinch at the contact. It was times like these that he'd presented an over-friendly front from the beginning. Now his touching and his closeness was expected and he could get away with so much more than he would have had he come off as shielded and hurt as he really was. This way, he could fulfill his need to be near the other man without frightening him away.   
      It was a victory, but a bitter one. Holy Rome didn't remember, and if he did, well- would it even make a difference? He'd thought he was a girl back then. No. This would have to do. This phony affection would have to last him. It was better than years of empty desire and days spent wondering. He was glad Gil had told him the truth.   
     There was a small jerk of Ludwig's shoulders as his head lulled. Feli smiled softly and remained very still as the german's breathing slowed and his weight became relaxed against him. This was okay. This was enough. After a long time spent sitting quietly, he laced his fingers with the slumbering German's and closed his own eyes.   
      This was good enough.


End file.
